


Smile in Your Sleep, Bonnie Baby

by Lucky107



Series: A Red, Red Rose [8]
Category: Hell on Wheels (TV)
Genre: 19th Century, Childbirth, Friendship, Gen, Graphic Description, Nurse - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 10:40:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10188029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucky107/pseuds/Lucky107
Summary: The winter chill outside is long forgotten here.[Season 3]





	

**Author's Note:**

> Smile in Your Sleep/Chì Mi Na Mòr-bheanna - Delta Burnett Reed - 2010

It's the dead of winter and the ferocious prairie winds tear through the streets of Omaha.  A stranger might never suspect it on account of Bonnie Mae's hiked up sleeves and rose-flushed cheeks, but she broke this sweat nine hours ago.

The winter chill outside is long forgotten here.

Bonnie is no stranger to the miracle of childbirth - she delivered all four of her siblings on much shorter notice with much less preparation - but her mother was nowhere near as stubborn as Miss Eva Toole.  Eva fights back against her body, against nature, with every ounce of strength she's got left.

It creates quite the predicament for Bonnie, who stands in as her midwife.  With her hands braced on Eva's knees, Bonnie encourages, "C'mon, Eva.  Push!"

Eva's grown hoarse from all the screaming, otherwise she would have given Bonnie a piece of her damn mind.  Despite her best efforts to relax, what Bonnie's asking is impossible - the pain is more intense and crippling than anything Eva's ever felt before.  The most natural response right now is to try to hold everything in, lest it all come tumbling out on her.

In her pain and exhaustion fueled haze, Eva reaches for her nurse and hisses, "Your hand, Bonnie—"

Bonnie complies, though she maintains one hand on Eva's knee in an effort to encourage the mother-to-be.  She gives Eva's knee a firm pat and says, "You need to _push_."

So Eva does.

In her effort to end her pain as quickly as possible, Eva nearly crushes all of the bones in Bonnie Mae's hand.  The young Scot hollers in pain.  "Damn it, Eva!"

But Bonnie doesn't shake her hand free from Eva's because, much to her surprise, it's _working_.

 

The rest of the day - and subsequent night - proceed in much the same vein.  Eva's just over eleven hours into labor when the baby's first cry pierces the quiet winter's night.

Eva takes a moment to rest before the next set of contractions hit, this time fewer and further between, but Bonnie wastes no time.  She separates the baby from her mother, allowing nature to take its course on Eva in the final stages of labor.  Eva's so worn out from birthing of her baby that she doesn't even feel the placenta come.

Bonnie Mae towels off the newborn baby before wrapping her into a bundle of clean blankets bigger than the baby herself.  "She's beautiful, Eva.  Be proud."

She carefully places the baby into her mother's awaiting arms.

In that moment, something inside of Eva breaks; looking at her newborn baby for the first time, she can't manage to will away her tears.  She's nothing more than a tiny bundle of wrinkled skin and blankets right now, but in Eva's eyes she's everything.

Around her, Bonnie busies herself with the cleanup that neither woman wishes to think about in the immediate aftermath of the baby's successful delivery.  She discards of the fleshy waste first, lingering only a moment as it snaps and sizzles in the flames.  There are bloody towels and sheets and articles of clothing to be washed and buckets half-full of every bodily fluid imaginable to be disposed of—

"She looks like Elam," Eva croons, largely to herself, as the baby refuses her first feeding.  "Acts like 'im, too."

Bonnie chuckles at the prospect, unable to tell Eva any different when it's the first time she's looked so genuinely _happy_ since arriving in Omaha.  Instead, she takes a seat on Eva's bedside and checks her temperature.  "How're you feelin'?"

"Exhausted," Eva admits, fingering the cloth folds near the baby's tiny face.  It's too early to tell what the future has in store for this brand new life, but regardless of what brought her into this world, Bonnie's hopeful.  "We oughta write Elam... he, more than anyone, deserves to know she's doin' well—"

But before Eva can worry herself into a fit, Bonnie places a reassuring hand on her shoulder.  Eva's trembling like a leaf.  "I'll go post a telegram to New York.  You see if she don't feed better without an audience."

Bonnie moves to fetch Eva some more blankets, but Eva instead takes Bonnie's hand.  "Bonnie?"

"Aye?"

Eva glances down at her baby girl, as if she's uncertain of what she wants to say, before she shyly returns her eyes to Bonnie's.  "Thanks."


End file.
